“Laci. My name is Laci.” My mind flashes back to that one conversation we had in high school. We were interrupted before I could tell him he’d called me by the wrong name.
“You’ve always been Laces to me. I didn’t know your name until I opened that folder and looked at your paper. I’d been calling you Laces in my head since I noticed you. You had bright pink shoelaces that first day. They were always a different color.” He steps closer, leaving only a sliver of space between us.
“I didn’t think you noticed me,” I say.
“I noticed. But you were a freshman, and I was a senior.”
“And you were popular, and I wasn’t. You also had a girlfriend. I’m black, you’re white.”
“None of that matters now. Two of those things are in the past tense, and I’ve never cared about the other.”
I lean against the door and look at him, and he holds my gaze. Brian was the only man I’ve ever been with. He was my first and my only. I don’t even know why we got together to begin with, but once we were married and faced with the reality of impending parenthood, he made sure to tell me I was a rebound. One he’d hooked up with until he could get the girl he loved back, but he had messed up, gotten me pregnant, and was then stuck with me. I don’t remember ever wanting to stare into his eyes or caress him. But here I am wanting to do just that with Cooper.
“Listen,” I say, standing up straighter. “I’m not available.” I turn to walk away, but he holds my wrist, and in the process, he awakens something in me. Something I didn’t think I had.
“You’re right here. It’s just you and Ivy, right?” he asks.
“Yes, but that doesn’t make me available. And I doubt you’re available yourself. You think it’s that easy to break up a ten-year relationship? I’m sure you and Candace will patch things up, and if there’s one thing I never plan on being again, it’s someone else’s rebound.” I try to pull my wrist free. I can feel the color creeping up my face at his intense stare. When he holds onto me, I glare at him and pull harder, but he’s so strong. Just one little tug, and I collide with his chest. He’s warm, and I can feel his heart beating against mine.
When I look into his eyes again, he looks confused. His brows furrow, and he narrows his eyes at me.
“You think Candace and I have been together since high school?”
I hear his question, but it’s been so long since I’ve been in a man’s arms that I forgot what it felt like. I’ve never been against a body so hard, a chest so broad. And his smell invades my senses. It’s a mixture of cologne and aftershave, and I can’t help but flare my nostrils and inhale. When I look back into his eyes, he smiles down at me. I stare at him for so long, I forgot the last thing he said.
“We broke up halfway through our freshman year of college. It was when we came home for the winter break. I was living in Indiana until two years ago. I bumped into Candace only last year,” he explains quickly.
“It doesn’t matter, Cooper, because I am not available.”
“Where is Ivy’s father?” he asks, his arms tightening around me.
“He’s dead,” I tell him. His eyes widen at my admission, and he gives me that look that I hate. He swallows twice and slowly nods his head. Then, he puts a hand on my shoulder and slowly caresses me. I’m so lost in the feel and smell of him that I don’t feel that same hand leaving my shoulder. It’s only when he cups my cheek that I exhale. He pulls me closer and wraps both arms around me, engulfing me in his embrace.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. I push against his chest and disentangle myself from his arms. He lets me go, and even though I’m the one who pushed him away, I miss him immediately.
“Stop,” I say. “Just stop. I hate when people get that look and start feeling sorry for me. I’m not unavailable because I’m mourning him. He made my life hell during our short marriage. I’m unavailable because the idea of getting involved with someone else makes me want to step inside my house and never come back out. But I don’t have that luxury because I have a baby who needs me. I only have room in my life for her.”
I turn from him and step inside the house. I lock the door and lean against it for what seems like hours. When I finally find the courage to look through the peep hole, he’s gone.
Chapter 8
Cooper
“Let me have my usual, Madge,”I tell the server before my ass hits the booth at Mickey’s Diner. Madge adjusts her big bosom, puts a mug in front of me, and fills it with coffee.
“You don’t have to tell me that, and you look like hell,” she says. I run a hand over my face and stare into her pale blue eyes. She’s a big woman, tall and full-figured. Her hair is the color of a penny, and her face is littered with freckles.
“Long night,” I tell her, and she snorts.
“I heard the wedding was all the rage. Too bad those of us on this side of the tracks aren’t worthy of an invitation. Where’s your girlfriend, by the way? Should I put her salad order in? Who the hell eats a salad for breakfast?” Madge rolls her eyes. She’s never had any patience for Candace, not even when we were in high school. She pulls my baseball cap off my head and puts it on the table. That’s the problem with being raised in a small town. Everyone always treats you like a child.
“Ex-girlfriend,” I tell her. Madge’s eyebrows shoot upward. This is breaking news for her. I’m sure the gossip will be all over town by lunch.
“You’re a nice boy, Coop. Always have been. I don’t know why you wasted your time on that vapid airhead.” She turns on her heels and walks away, without giving me a chance to reply. Yeah, I don’t know either. Except she’s familiar. And maybe, if I admit it to myself, I got involved with her again because I knew it wouldn’t lead anywhere.
While I sip my coffee, I close my eyes and exhale, waiting for the caffeine to jolt my system awake. I spent most of the night staring at my bedroom ceiling. I hadn’t intended to go over there last night. I was supposed to wait and approach this morning, but when I saw her outside, I could not help myself. My legs had a mind of their own. After our talk, I know that the timing wouldn’t have mattered. I would have met the same wall of resistance regardless of when I approached.
I googled her as soon as I got home. I found her husband’s obituary. Brian Hogan, killed by a drunk driver. There were several pictures of him and some that included Laci, and a tiny Ivy. Laci was smiling in some of the pictures, but the smiles didn’t reach her eyes. In fact, her eyes looked empty. She’d had the same blank look in the pictures before his death as she did after.